My unfiltered thoughts, as I think them.
I’m watching this show about this man who found what he loved to do, found the people he loved to help, but because of other things, he isn’t allowed to do it anymore. He keeps getting calls from the people he used to help, but he has to tell them he can’t help them, when he can- he has to defer them to other people- he has to keep living his meaningless existence, doing nothing, helping no one, because nobody will allow him to do what he was meant to do. And I’m watching this man in the TV slowly die inside, slowly give up, and slowly accept that he will never help those people again- he will never fulfill his purpose- and I can’t help but wonder if the man in the TV is actually just a spitting image of me.
Every day, I wake up with this boulder of dread sitting deep in the pit of my stomach. I try to distract myself- I try to keep busy- but no matter how valiant my efforts, I always end up staring hazily at the wall, wondering to myself just how long I had let the fear paralyze me, this time.
I used to think I was destined for great things- things like adventures, spontaneity, and love; I had so much passion. Now, all of my days blend together, and all of my anxieties and trepidations have congealed into a massive clot that has only barricaded me inside of this monotonous existence.
Each and every time I look at a loved one, the dread reminds me that one day, I will lose them. It doesn’t understand that I don’t even need a reminder- in fact, it’s nearly all I ever think about anyways. In the process of being so afraid of losing everyone else- of trying so hard to keep all of them in my sight and safe- the ironic thing, is that I lost myself; and of the millions of things the dread weighs me down with, & reminds me of every day, I’m realizing that not once had I ever been considered.